I tried to follow him, tried to apologize, tried to explain that I hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but David had locked himself in our guest bedroom, and no amount of knocking or pleading would make him open the door.
The next morning, David emerged looking like he hadn’t slept at all. His eyes were red and puffy, his clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them.
But it was his expression that broke my heart.
He looked at me like I was a stranger, someone he didn’t trust or even particularly like.
When I tried to talk to him, to apologize for what I’d said, he held up a hand to stop me.
His voice was quiet but firm when he told me he needed space to think, that he couldn’t deal with this conversation right now.
That pattern continued for three days.
David would come home from work, acknowledge me with a polite nod, and retreat to the guest bedroom. He answered direct questions with yes or no responses but initiated no conversations.
